


against the run of play

by bergamots



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Grand Romantic Gestures, a lot of tabloids, implied sexytimes, rebecca and maes are the best wingpeople ever, riza is smart and accomplished, rugby au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergamots/pseuds/bergamots
Summary: “Riza Hawkeye,” she lifted her glass in greeting.He inclined his head in return and took the chair next to her. “Roy Mustang. What brings you to a charity gig this evening?”(In which Roy Mustang is a national rugby hero and falls in love with neurotrauma specialist Riza Hawkeye as soon as he lays eyes on her).





	against the run of play

**Author's Note:**

> written for yanumii on tumblr for the 2k17 secret santa fest. they asked for a modern royai au, and i tried my best to deliver. 
> 
> this story is told in three ways: traditional prose; tabloid articles and tweets. i hope u enjoy this new style of storytelling!!! i had a lot of fun playing around with it. 
> 
> the dress riza is wearing comes from the tony ward rtw s/s 2k16 collection.
> 
> my thanks to mar who kept me going and convinced me not to break 10k. maybe next year's secret santa.

 

 

 

 

 

>  
> 
> __
> 
> __
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> _He’s been seen out and about in Briggs with internationally-ranked ice-skater **Olivier Armstrong** , 36._
> 
> _But rugby royalty **Roy Mustang** , 28, stepped out solo for his trip to East City last week, and tried to go incognito as he arrived at Bardowick-Lyles station late Thursday afternoon. _
> 
> _The captain of the **Drakes** cut a casual look with oversized black shades as he tried to dodge the prying eyes of the afternoon commuters._
> 
> _Braving the cold in a black winter coat with pearl buttons, Mustang kept it cosy in a light blue jumper and worn black jeans._
> 
> _He matched his elegant coat with midnight Tom Ford boots, emblazoned with a bold red strap over the foot._
> 
> _He stylishly pulled the look together with a tan messenger bag with statement buckle to give off a touch of glamour._
> 
> _The sighting comes after a report from the **Central Star**  that the rugby superstar is getting serious with ice-skater **Olivier Armstrong** , who has just come back from the competition circuit in Drachma._  
>    
>  _Though there have been no photos of the two together, several sources have reported on their dates._
> 
> _Olivier attended his last home game in East City last November. And Mustang headed to Briggs with her where they were both spotted enjoying the sights at Lake Yastreb, well-known in the region for its picturesque views and opportunities to skate on the lake itself._
> 
> _'Roy and Olivier are definitely dating,' a source tells **Central Star**. 'They’ve gotten to know each other really well and are very comfortable from one another. _
> 
> _'Olivier sends Roy music to get his opinion on what she should choreograph her pieces to. It’s more than just a fling.'  
>    
>  'They’ve been dating since early autumn and spend most nights hanging out at his holiday home in northern Central and laying low,' another source told the **Central Star**. _
> 
> _'His friends already love her and see how happy she makes him,' it was claimed._
> 
> _The Drakes face off against Creta this Saturday at the Eastern ‘Cake Tin’ Stadium, in which punters are expecting the professional debut of newly-signed scrum-half, Edward Elric._

* * *

 

 

 

 

>   ** _Roy Mustang_ ** _is supposedly single!_
> 
> _While it was previously reported the Rugby Union star was ‘casually dating’ the pretty figure skater **Olivier Armstrong** , he says he's not worrying about his love life for now (though he did not outright deny that he and Olivier have been seeing!)_
> 
> _He told **The Bell** :_
> 
> _"It's not that I'm not pursuing love in some sense, but I'm just focusing on the team right now. We have some really exciting games coming up against the new Creta lineup and training has been non-stop. The spare time that I do have, I want it to be fun and casual and light and easy-going."_
> 
> _Well, there's nothing wrong with fun and casual!_
> 
> _Anyway, Roy isn't worrying about being in a serious relationship at the moment, but maybe some time in the future:_
> 
> _"I'm sure there will come a time when I'm ready to make a more serious commitment and be in a relationship like that – one where I can really focus my time on someone else – but I'm thrilled to be able to keep things simple at the moment."_
> 
> _And for now he's focusing on his fellow teammate (and self-proclaimed best friend) **Maes Hughes** ' happiness in his engagement to Gracia Barker:_
> 
> _"I was really excited and anxious to hear from Maes on the day that I knew he was going to pop the question. When I finally did, it was just the best. I think they’ve found their other half in each other and it's wonderful to see them so happy. It's rare in a lot of cases and when you see it happen it brings you an overwhelming sense of joy."_
> 
> _Aww!_
> 
> _Roy can live vicariously through them AND still enjoy the single life!_
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> __
> 
> __

* * *

Riza huffed as she adjusted the dress she wore, cursing under her breath as she shot a pained smile towards her grandfather across the dance floor. She understood that the job her grandfather had – as the leader of their country – was _important_ , but he made it very hard for her to appreciate his role when he forced her to attend these soirées as his informal date. _You’ll meet plenty of men this way,_ he had cajoled her, eyes twinkling.

Of course, it didn’t matter to Führer George Grumman the III that his only grandchild had no current plans to meet a man and settle down – she was having plenty of fun focusing on her job as a doctor in a small borough just an hour out of Central City. It was challenging work, as well as rewarding, and it frustrated Riza to no end that her grandfather refused to see her as she was, rather than as someone she could potentially become.

She would, however, give him credit for the dress she was trying to wrestle with discreetly as she could manage. Despite the awkward way she felt it sat on her body, she would admit that she looked _damn_ good in it. It was one of the more scandalous-worthy dresses on show tonight – she had been approached by an up-and-coming designer who knew her through a co-worker that worked on the surgery side of head trauma (she thought it was funny how small the world could be at times) – and the designer had arrived last week with this hip-hugging, gossamer affair. Truthfully, the dress actually stopped at the top of her thighs: the rest was a delicate gauze embellished with floral appliqués that accented the long length of her thighs and calves. It was a bold choice that Riza knew had some of the high society girls fuming – technically she hadn’t broken the dress code, but she knew she was walking on a very thin line between looking chic and modern and looking downright scandalous.

Whatever. If she had to be dragged to be paraded around on her grandfather’s arm, at least she could look stunning while doing it.

Tonight was a charity event – these were par for the course for her. The causes were almost always something she could easily support, and the press tended to be minimal (and generally only the _legitimate_ forms of press would even turn up to these sorts of events).

Unfortunately for Riza, this particular charity event was something she was struggling to find an ounce of support for. It didn’t help that their supporters and partners had hadn’t really given much thought to the security of the whole event. Gate crashers kept seeming to wriggle their way in, and the few men on duty had their hands full trying to ensure than nobody was unduly accosted.

It was just her luck that the entire Drakes team had been invited to attend, and with them, every person with a smartphone and a nametag saying, _‘Hello I’m an invasive journalist’_ had turned up to report ( _intrusively investigate_ , a little voice in the back of her head whispered).

The main speeches that had practically bordered on self-congratulation had already been done ( _thank god)_ , and the dinner had been alright ( _the only saving grace)_. The mingling afterwards was what she didn’t enjoy, but it was barely ten o’clock yet and she had promised her grandfather that she would stay until at _least_ half past. This event had been sponsored by the national rugby board, celebrating the commencement of a new initiative that would see coaches and equipment being deployed to the poorer regions of the country. If her grandfather was considered the head of this nation, rugby was undoubtedly the heart. And the lungs. And the kidneys. And any other vital organ in the body. Amestris without rugby was…well, a country of little international standing and an awful lot of sheep per capita.

It was in their blood, or so the saying went. Everyone either played or watched the national sport. There was never any discussion about _disliking_ rugby: naturally, that never factored into the equation at all.  Riza could remember playing it as a young child – even the other sports made available at her school all paled in comparison to the funding and exposure that rugby got.

Her grandfather knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of rugby – being a neurotrauma specialist meant she often dealt with people suffering from concussions and other injuries that were common in the sport: so spending an evening with the people who actively ignored any warnings she and her colleagues put out about the inherent dangers of such an oft-contact sport was just _peachy._

Also, Roy Mustang was here. Riza didn’t have anything against the man personally; she was just sick of seeing his name and face plastered across her newspapers, social media feed, christ – even her _bread_ wasn’t safe from his smarmy expression, endorsing her use of wholegrains and encouraging her to _learn more at playrugby.co.am_

The overexposure of such a man was to be expected, she supposed. He was the captain of the Drakes – the national rugby team, and played in the local league for the East Eagles. Alongside Hughes, Armstrong (the male one, his older sister did figure-skating and was reputed to be as cold as the ice she worked on) and the up-and-coming Elric Brothers, the national team was _formidable,_ to say the least – and that was only the names that she could remember off the top of her head. The Drakes were currently ranked number one in the world, and for good reason. She’d give him this, Mustang _was_ talented – after years of embarrassing defeats and almost-wins against Creta (their arch rivals), Mustang had swanned onto the scene and essentially rebuilt the team from the ground up. The drinking and bashing tabloids went away, the team practically became _good_ at rugby overnight, and the country’s morale was at an all-time high.

Mustang had given the country something to be proud of, and that in turn made the country better for it.

She spied him across the room, talking with her grandfather and other men in suits. George was a big fan of the rugby, and Riza knew her grandfather would certainly be enjoying himself tonight, surrounded by plenty of players to natter off to. She remembered that he used to play when he was haler and heartier: tonight would probably be the highlight of his social engagement calendar for this season.

It was rather funny to watch the man try to extract himself from what looked to be a very one-sided conversation with her grandfather – Riza was well-versed in various modes of escape from him once he got into an animated discussion, but in this case Mustang seemed to be at her grandfather’s mercy. Eventually another team member had wandered over and she saw him quickly duck his way out, skirting the edges of the ballroom.

“I see you’ve met the ‘real’ Führer,” she called out to him as he passed her table. He turned back to look at her, confused.

She smiled kindly at him and his face lit up in understanding. “You saw that, then?”

“It’s been fun watching everyone realise what they’ve gotten themselves into. You did remarkably well.”

She poured herself another flute of sparkling wine and raised her eyebrows at her companion.

“Riza Hawkeye,” she lifted her glass in greeting.

He inclined his head in return and took the chair next to her. “Roy Mustang. What brings you to a charity gig this evening?”

“I’m here as my grandfather’s date,” she replied. It was the _truth_ , after all. But with men like Mustang, she relied on their own fame and notoriety to eclipse hers. There had been no spark of recognition at her first name (which usually gave it away). It was refreshing to be a simple civilian, talking to another, slightly more (okay, _extremely well-known_ ) civilian. Besides, she was interested in seeing how he was off the field, and out of the press scrum after every game. He had always presented himself as polite and engaged – but here, amongst his peers, Riza would have an opportunity to see the _real_ man.

“That’s very kind of you,” he said politely, fiddling with the stem of his glass. “Is he involved with the board?”

“Not quite,” she hedged, ducking her head. “To be honest he’s not a very important person in the scheme of it all, not here certainly. Not like _you,_ however.” A teasing smile pulled at her lips. “You’re the man of the hour.”

Roy sighed, shifting in his chair to see her properly. “It’s a good venture.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Riza said coolly. “But you don’t look like you’re having fun, despite all the attention.”

Roy folded his arms over his chest and Riza tried to ignore how his dress shirt pulled in all the _right_ places. “You don’t sound like you’re having much fun either.”

“Why would I? Your board never listens to me: being stuck in a room with them is not my idea of a good Thursday night.”

He paused, frowning. “What do you mean about the board?”

Perhaps it was the all the wine she had drunk throughout the night (well, _something_ needed to get her through their inane speeches); perhaps it was the fact that she would be able to give Mustang the slip in just under ten minutes; perhaps Riza had the slim hope that maybe _he_ would listen to her, even if nobody else would.

The words spilled out of her before she could think to what impact they might have. “I’m a neurotrauma specialist. I’ve written entire books on how a blow to the head affects your cognitive function later on in life. Your board seems to think their players are immune to those effects.”

His eyes bugged a little out of his head and Riza allowed herself a small smirk. It wasn’t an attack on him directly – hell, he would probably be one of the worst-off players considering how long he’d been playing for the Drakes now – but there was something perversely fun about educating the star of rugby about its inherent failings and dangers.

“I mean-” he was struggling for words here, moving forward in his seat. “I’d heard the rumours but – surely they would _listen_ , at the very least?”

Riza shrugged, finishing off her glass. “You tell me. Every paper I send them – _internationally_ peer-reviewed, mind you – is quickly ignored. They don’t want the proof that the current form of the game is slowly killing their star players.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe you’ll have more luck with them than I do. I mean the game no disrespect, but with how it’s embedded into our day-today-lives-” she waved an arm around for emphasis. “It’s not just retired players and people with over twenty concussions. I’m getting children in now because they’ve have a hard knock and it’s screwed them up. There’s absolutely no focus on safety, just on how _manly_ it is. And a gala like this? It’s only going to exacerbate the problem.”

He had grown quiet, looking at something over her shoulder with apprehension.

“I heard from your grandfather that you had come along with him tonight, but I never imagined you would be so rude as to spread lies when you’re here as our guest,” an oily voice said from behind her.

“Chairman Raven,” Roy said carefully, moving out of his chair and shaking the older man’s hand.

Riza stood up to, and made a point of extending her hand towards the man as well. His cologne was overpowering as he gripped her hand with more force than necessary, she could feel it settling onto her skin like the sardines her grandfather liked to eat for lunch. Everything about him screamed money and power.

“It’s hardly a lie, I’m afraid,” she replied coolly, enjoying how his gaze hardened. “I have nearly eight years’ worth of data now. Every year you ignore me I just add to my statistics some more.”

“Chairman, I think it might be worth looking into this,” Roy said earnestly, and Riza felt a rush of affection for him as he stood next to her, their shoulders barely brushing. “I saw Basque only just last week and he had been telling me-”

“A conversation for another time, I think,” Raven said pointedly, still looking at Riza with barely contained distaste. “You’ll have to forgive Mr Mustang: he sees a pretty face and simply loses all common sense.”

Riza felt the smile freeze on her face. Roy had grown very still next to her, and she willed for him to say something – _anything_. The silence stretched on, and Raven’s lewd smile grew.

“I think we should give Mr Mustang more credit than that,” she said eventually, tasting bile on her tongue. “At least he doesn’t judge at first glance.”

“Because there’s so much to judge the granddaughter of the Führer on, isn’t there?” Raven inclined his head at the two of them. “It was nice talking to you again, Miss Hawkeye.”

“ _Doctor_ Hawkeye,” she ground out.

Raven laughed loudly. “Of course, silly me. _Doctor Hawkeye.”_

Roy turned on her as soon as the older man was out of earshot; Riza let go of a breath she didn’t realise she was still holding onto.

“You’re _George’s granddaughter?”_

“Yes,” she said distractedly, checking her watch for the time. “My grandmother doesn’t have the patience for these sorts of things, so I come along instead.”

“ _His granddaughter-”_

“I need a drink,” she said tiredly, finally looking up at him. His mouth was gaping open inelegantly and she smiled softly, placing her fingers on his underside of his chin to close his mouth gently. “Would you care to join me? I find Chairman Raven robs me of all energy.” Her fingers lingered on his jaw for a moment, savouring the heat of his skin against her own.

He stared at her, confused, before nodding and offering her his arm. “I know a good bar a few blocks from here,” he said lightly.

“You read my mind, Mr Mustang. Lead the way.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> * * *

 

She woke with a start, and immediately wished she hadn’t moved so quickly. The room swam; her vision swam; her _head_ swam.

Riza had the worst hangover in living memory. Her legs were wrapped awkwardly around a sheet and she struggled for a few moments before flopping back onto the bed, breathing deeply and trying her best not to hurl onto the ground.

 _How much did I drink last night?_ Her head was throbbing painfully now, and she realised with growing dread that she didn’t recognise where she was.

She also wasn’t wearing anything.

_FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckityfuckfuckFUCK._

Another wave of nausea passed over her and she rolled onto her side, blearily opening her eyes to figure out _exactly_ where she had ended up. The room was familiar – maybe one of the hotels in the CBD? The room was pretty basic in its setup, but the furniture spoke of moderate wealth. Riza sat up slowly, not caring how the bedsheet fell and pooled around her hips. She could spy her dress crumpled up on the floor, and her shoes kicked off on the sofa.

_How in the fuck am I going to get out of this?_

She heard movements to her left, and watched with horror as Roy Mustang’s head emerged from beneath the other half of the bedsheet, like the birth of the world’s most hungover butterfly. He blinked slowly up at her, his mouth opening and shutting.

“Where did your dress go?” he asked, puzzled. Riza shrieked, quickly grabbing the sheet back up.

“ _God_ , _not so loud I beg you-_ ”

“ _What the fuck happened last night-_ ”

“Did we-?”

“I think we-”

“Christ, I would never mean to take advantage of you like that, I’m so sorry-”

She held up a hand and took a deep breath. “We were both obviously drunk – it’s – it’s not ideal. But it’s alright, it – this shit happens.” She gripped the bedsheet tightly against her chest.

He curled around a pillow and looked at her with an expression she couldn’t be bothered to figure out. “I’m glad it was you,” he said honestly, wincing at how _tactless_ he sounded. “I mean – you know, people throwing themselves at you for your fame?”

“Yeah…” she nodded her head uncertainly. “I-”

“ROY!” A voice boomed from outside, the two of them tensed, and looked at each other warily.

“Fuck, it’s Maes,” he whispered harshly, running a hand through his hair – if it was his bedhead before, Riza didn’t know what to call whatever the mess was now on top of his head. He pushed himself off the bed and puttered around the bed; Riza found it hard to tear her eyes away from his body. Yes, she knew he was fit but – it was different seeing it in the flesh.

“You won’t want to wear that out,” he said, gesturing to her dress on the floor while shimmying on his boxer shorts. “I think I have some spare clothes you can borrow.”

“It’ll be fine-”

“Dressed to the nines?” He laughed and shook his head. “We’ve got press with us at the moment – they might be sport-focused, but I’ll wager they’ll be quicker to pick up on who you are than I was.”

She bit her lip: he had a point, despite her apprehension. Of _course_ the media would be here – it was a bloody miracle that Roy had taken them to a little bar off a side street where nobody seemed to care who they were.

The knocking on the door was becoming more insistent. “ _ROY WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU LAZY SON OF A-”_

“ _I’M COMING, MAES!”_ He yelled back, throwing her a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts; she quickly put them on. They were a loose fit, but it would have to do, at least until she could hail an uber to take her home. He ducked into the bathroom, she could hear the taps running at full tilt.

She was just bending down to pick up her wallet when the door suddenly flew open and Maes walked in, looking harried and ready to draw blood.

“Roy, I swear on my grave you are gonna get it-”

He stopped as he saw Riza crouching by the side of the bed.

“Oh _shit_ , Roy. What have you _done_?”

Roy walked out the bathroom, scrubbing at his face with a washcloth. His shoulders slumped as he saw his best friend, and he walked over to where Riza was standing, frozen like a deer in the headlights. “Look, I’ll-”

“It’s fine,” she whispered lowly, very aware of how this must look to the deputy captain: here was the Führer’s granddaughter dressed in his best friend’s clothing and looking thoroughly shagged. “I’ll go, and you can – can deal with whatever is going on-”

“Riza-”

She placed her free palm against his chest and breathed in deeply. “It’s _fine_ -”

He dipped his head and kissed her chastely on the mouth, a little part of her melted at the fact that despite his being needed elsewhere, he was still here, with her. His fingers curled against the side of her face and she tried her best not to see too much into this: he was just being a _gentleman_ and –

“Roy this _can’t wait-_ ”

He ripped his lips from hers and breathed deeply, resting his forehead against her own.

“I swear-”

She nodded, trying her best not to let her emotions get the better of her. “Maybe we’ll – later.”

“Later,” he breathed, kissing her forehead lightly before picking up her shoes and handing them to her. “Take the stairwell, it’ll lead you to the back entrance and away from the main road.”

Maes was quiet as he watched her gather her purse and slip out of the room. “You didn’t answer your phone,” he explained, handing his own over. The local news site was loaded, and Roy sucked in a breath as he read the headline.

_BREAKING: ZOLF J. KIMBLEE FOUND GUILTY OF DOPING DRAKES ON BEHALF OF DRACHMAN BEARS. MORE TO FOLLOW._

“Christ,” Roy muttered, skimming the article before handing the phone back to Maes, quickly putting on his team jacket. “Of course it was Kimblee.”

Maes shrugged. “We all knew something was coming. What I’m more interested in is-”

“Absolutely not.” His voice brokered no argument and Maes deflated a little. “It’s not – we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”

“Is she just a one-off or-?”

Roy rubbed his eyes roughly, sighing. “For fucks sake, you know me better than that. Later mate, when I’m not hungover.”

Maes slung his arm around Roy’s shoulders, and coaxed him down the hall towards the elevator. “I’ll hold you to that. Anyway, Kimblee was found with the drugs in his room, and his phone’s been confiscated by the police. All you need to do is look solemn and refuse to answer any questions.”

“That should be easy.”

* * *

_UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:28pm when did u manage to put ur number into my phone_

_elizabeth, 5:31pm Sorry, who is this?_

_UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:32pm man this is embarrassing_  
_ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:32pm it’s roy_  
_ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:32pm y’know_  
_ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:33pm the dude u marked to hell and back_  
_ UNKNOWN NUMBER, 5:33pm i had to fend off so many questions from maes about u_

_elizabeth, 5:34pm Oh shit  
elizabeth, 5:36pm Thank you for sending back my dress. I owe you_

_concussion boy, 5:37pm go out to lunch with me tomorrow and i’ll call it even_

_elizabeth, 5:39pm They said you were slick on the field _

_concussion boy, 5:40pm meet u at the café on the corner of elm and lyles? 12ish?_

_elizabeth, 5:44pm I’ve got a meeting at 1pm back at the hospital so it’ll have to be a short lunch_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> _Looks like **Roy Mustang** scores on AND off the field!_
> 
> _On Saturday, the **Drakes** star was snapped out and about with the gorgeous First Granddaughter **Riza Hawkeye,** and it seems like these two had quite a ball on their lunch date!_
> 
> _The precious pair hit up Il Pomadoro in the Carlston borough of Western Central, and they were totally getting their flirt on after the meal!_
> 
> _The accomplished neurosurgeon and the captain of the Drakes were caught on camera smiling and laughing, and Riza even tried to grab for something in the athlete's hands!_
> 
> _And close sources say this isn't just a hit-it-and-quit-it date! Insiders say that these two are, in fact, dating, but it's still very new, which is why they're trying to keep it on the down-low._
> 
> _For example, when the sports star was asked about being spotted on the outing later that week, he responded by saying:_
> 
> _"I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about."_
> 
> _Playing coy, Mustang?!_
> 
> _We appreciate the effort, but those snaps are pretty telling!_
> 
> _[Images courtesy of Lily Marrell.]_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> _Things are heating up between **Roy Mustang** and **Riza Hawkeye** in the cold winter weather… literally!_
> 
> _On Tuesday night, the blonde beauty and the charismatic captain were spotted hanging out together once again! The stars were caught on camera at a Starbucks near Mount Kahma, about five hours north of New Optain._
> 
> _Since the cosy ski resort is probably one of the few places in the Eastern District that actually gets cold, the precious pair was most likely trying to get their body heat rising… with some coffee! LOL get your mind out of the gutter!_
> 
> _The romance rumours surrounding these two have been in a flurry ever since the pair were spotted talking at a charity ball sponsored by the National Rugby Union. Miss Hawkeye, a talented neurotrauma specialist at Central General had apparently charmed the Drakes Captain with not just her enviable fashion sense, but her brain as well. Sources say that Roy was smitten with her from the very beginning, while Riza took a little time to warm up to the fly-half._
> 
> _Do you think the relationship between this dynamic duo is more than platonic? Or are Roy and Riza just friends? This girl hopes that Roy Mustang isn’t off the bachelor market just yet!_
> 
> _[Image courtesy of Lorne Yoki.]_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> _It’s heartbreak on top of heartbreak for **Olivier Armstrong** , 36, and **Roy Mustang** , 28, and sources claim to **The Daily Star** that Roy has betrayed Olivier by seeing another woman for the past five months. ‘Roy finally admitted to Olivier that he had fallen in love with another woman! They had to hide their feelings, but they’ve been seeing each other on the sly whenever they could over the last five months,’ an insider reveals. ‘Their friendship turned into something more as time went on.’ OMG!_
> 
> _So who is this alleged mystery woman? None other than the granddaughter of the Führer, Riza Hawkeye. ‘She’s a neurotrauma specialist, and often attends charity events as a date to her grandfather,’ the source adds. Sounds like they run in the same circles. ‘As such, they had crossed paths at numerous events, both in Amestris and abroad, for some time,’ the insider reveals. ‘She’s classically beautiful and was educated in Creta, as well as here at Central U — and the attraction between her and Roy was immediate!’ Whoa, sounds pretty serious._
> 
> _Miss Hawkeye has been described as somewhat of a gold-digger in certain circles – she was largely left out of the public eye as George Grumman soared to power in the election of ’19, and the insider reveals that there’s talk amongst those closest to the rugby star that she’s after a ring to solidify her social standing amongst the WAG’s of the Drakes. ‘She grew up in a very poor household until her grandfather took her under his wing, so she’s very hungry for any kind of power. We honestly can’t see what he sees in her.’_
> 
> _Of course, Roy had to eventually tell Olivier about his secret love. ‘Roy finally came clean to Olivier about his new woman just a few days before her Grand Prix competition at North City,’ the insider says, referring to that dramatic and shocking exit by Olivier in the semi-finals. ‘At first Olivier was stunned — and certainly blindsided — by Roy’s confession. But then she got furious. It wasn’t pretty,’ the source shares. We can only imagine. Olivier is considered one of the strongest skaters in the world – she must have truly been heartbroken to be affected like this._
> 
> _Perhaps Riza will see her true influence now – not as a doctor saving lives, but as one ruining them too._

* * *

_concussion boy, 2:31pm i know u saw the daily star article. rebecca dm’ed me._

_concussion boy, 2:31pm u can’t just keep ignoring me  
concussion boy, 2:32pm we need to talk about this_

_elizabeth, 2:26pm there’s nothing to talk about_

_concussion boy, 2:27pm i’ll make sure i get a concussion next match unless we talk_  
_ concussion boy, 2:27pm u know i will_  
_ concussion boy, 2:28pm and then u will have to treat me and be a professional while i ogle u_  
_ concussion boy, 2:29pm har har_

* * *

“You never thought to _tell_ me it was a PR relationship?”

“It didn’t seem – I mean, if you had met Olivier-”

Riza let out a shriek of frustration. “But I _haven’t_ , Roy. I don’t move in the same circles as you! Was it her? Did she tell them to write this?”

Roy held up his hands in defeat. “No, she wouldn’t. She doesn’t get revenge that way. I just – I know our lives have been busy! Between you, and getting the team through this fucking doping scandal-”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because I’m _such_ a hassle, aren’t I? You know that’s not what I meant. It’s not like I’m deciding to date the next guy I meet in the bakery – you’re Roy Mustang! Every man, woman and unborn child knows who you are. It was foolish to think that we’d be able to keep it quiet for any length of time, you’ve always got media after you-”

Roy snorted, shaking his head. “And you’re the Führer’s granddaughter, who is _known_ in the public eye-”

“Because he _asks_ me!” She wrung her hands, trying her best not to get upset. “He always gives me the option to say no! You never asked me if this is what I wanted, you just took me out on a date and hoped like mad the press wouldn’t catch wind-”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking me in the hotel.”

She stood there, mouth open and gaping like a fish. “That’s not – you can’t just – we-”

He laughed humourlessly, a pale imitation of a smile on his face. “Right. I see how it is. _You’re_ allowed to hang that over my head for as much as you care to do, but as soon as I try to make a point you won’t even fucking listen. Are you sure that it’s _me_ who’s has the multiple head injuries?” It was an a needlessly cruel jab and part of Roy regretted it the moment it left his mouth. His idea of a ‘mild press day’ was probably far beyond whatever she had experienced – but still –

She sat down on the sofa, her head in her hands. Her shoulders were trembling. “ _Don’t_ ,” she said forcefully when he went to sit next to her, her arm flung out in a final stand.

There was an ugly silence as Roy stood there, hand hovering in the space where her own was being held. She swallowed what sounded like a sob before she raised her head and tucked her arms against her body, blinking her watery eyes.

“Never use my job against me again,” she said coldly, before shifting on the sofa, inclining her head slightly. He sat down, and she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder.

“You’re used to the press,” her hand found his and she laced her fingers with his tightly. “You’re used to how they write about you, how they-”

“But-”

“Please let me finish, Roy.” Her voice was firm, but tired. “You have an entire team of people who coach you in how to deal with the media; that same team protects you from the worst of it. I don’t have that luxury. Being the granddaughter of the Führer means that people _are_ aware of me, yes – but I’m no more than a line in an article; perhaps included in a single society photo with my grandfather because he wants one of the two of us. No more than that.” She paused, and shifted against him.

“I have complete strangers approaching me at my work. Making up fake head injuries so I’ll see them – taking up a spot that could be used by somebody who actually _needs_ the medical attention. _The girlfriend of Roy Mustang.”_ Riza laughed bitterly. “It’s like I’m in zoo or something. Back when people saw me for who my grandfather was, not for my own achievements. I worked hard to get to where I am today – to be reduced in such a way, it’s–”

She sighed heavily. “This is the reality I’m living with. Please understand that.”

Roy nodded slowly, squeezing her hand lightly. “I didn’t consider,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

She lifted their joined hands and kissed his knuckles delicately. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when it happened. I just…I thought I could deal with it. They’re only articles.”

“And you’re just a person,” Roy soothed. “A brilliant, smart, and kind person-” she laughed shakily, “-but a person nonetheless. I’ll see what I can do about the tabloids. They weren’t this harsh on Gracia.”

* * *

_dickhead bf, 09:28am sorry to inform u but i’m breaking up with u_

_ dickhead bf, 09:29am i know this will be hard for u  
dickhead bf, 09:29am i'll send some flowers so the world knows i’m a gentleman_

_ice monster, 09:40am fuck off  
ice monster, 09:40am i’ve seen the articles. is she staying for longer than 2 months?_

_dickhead bf, 09:48am har bloody har. she just doesn’t want any press cooking up a story we all know to be fake  
dickhead bf, 09:50am they haven’t been kind to her_

_ice monster, 09:52am cry me a river mustang. she knows what’s she’s getting into right? fuhrer’s grandkid and all that  
ice monster, 09:54am seriously tho, congrats. didn't think there was anybody who could deal with ur arse 24/7. wish her luck from me_

_dickhead bf, 09:55am you’d probably like her. doesn't put up with any of my shit and makes me ring my mum once a week_

_ice monster, 09:56am real wife material there  
ice monster, 10:11am oh ffs DO NOT propose to her yet otherwise i’ll get stuck with ur press cycle again. ur meant to make me look GOOD_

_dickhead bf, 10:28am i know. say hi to jon for me_

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> **_Olivier Armstrong_ ** _may have a new man her life!_
> 
> _On Monday, it was reported by **The Standard** that the renowned figure skater has been spending time with **Jonathon Buccaneer** for the last few weeks. AH-Mazing!_
> 
> _However, the 32-year-old's family have declined to comment on her possibly changed #RelationshipStatus. Well, that's not a no!_
> 
> _According to the paper, the twosome went on a romantic getaway together to Beaumont, Western District where they supposedly went on scenic hikes into the mountains and basked in the sunshine. Too cute!_
> 
> _Still, we have to wonder, who exactly is this mystery beau?? Ch-ch-check out these five fast facts on Olivier’s (possible) new squeeze!_
> 
> _5\. Mr. Buccaneer has an automail arm: Apparently, he has a variety of different get-ups for different jobs. It’s unknown how he lost it, and no sources close to the man have offered up any hints. We can’t imagine how he lost it, what with working in the military and all…_
> 
> _4\. He has NOTHING to do with professional sports: Surprisingly, Olivier is dating a normal guy who works at as a military analyst for the Briggs outpost for the military. Mind blown!_
> 
> _3\. Olivier’s rumoured BF is SUPER smart: The 35-year-old is said to have gone to not one, but TWO ranked universities. Yep, Jon went to the University of Amestris for his undergraduate education and also attended Briggs Military Academy. Remember, the blonde beauty graduated from Central U herself!_
> 
> _4\. This possible boyfriend is ALSO a fan of nature: Reportedly, his now private Instagram account showed a series of pics of Jon being in the great outdoors, hiking, and camping in the Northern Ranges. Colour us impressed!_
> 
> _1\. Jon may be exactly what Olivier needs to finally move on from her supposed ex: the athlete was said to be heartbroken following the news that rugby player **Roy Mustang** had given her the slip and moved onto the granddaughter of the Führer, **Riza Hawkeye**._
> 
> _Maybe now Olivier feels ready to be happy with someone new. Is that someone Jon?_

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rebecca asked worriedly, glancing around the now deserted gangway of the stadium: the cheers were muffled, but still echoed hollowly against the cool concrete. “Like follow your heart and all that shit but it’s not gonna be a decision you can just turn your back on-”

“I know ‘Becca,” Riza replied quietly, toying with the shirt in her hands: the deep blue fabric slid easily over her fingers, the flecks of silver embroidery glinted back at her merrily. “But…I’ve got to meet him halfway, don’t I?”

Rebecca snorted. “This is more than halfway. Halfway is following his actual twitter handle instead of the spoof one – you _do_ know it’s a spoof right? It’s important to me that you _know_ it’s a spoof account-” Riza didn’t respond, watching one of the nearby television screens with interest as the Drakes began to run out onto the field.

Rebecca’s cheeks puffed out as she waved a hand in front of her friend’s dazed face. “This is like…eighty-five percent from you and only fifteen from him. He’s playing a _game_ anyway – he’s not gonna see you until the second half at least with where we’re sitting!”

“That’s the point, ‘Becca. I _do not_ want to be blamed for his fucking up of a conversion.”

Rebecca sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “It’s Drachma, Riza. They’re not gonna lose.”

“And I am not going to take any chances,” Riza replied primly, quickly putting on the shirt over the top of her singlet. It was a little baggy, but the fact that she was even able to have one – she’d have to think of something to give to Hughes to say thank you; the man was surprisingly cunning and determined. She never stood a chance of getting out of this anyway. She smoothed down the fabric and spun on her foot. “How does it look?”

“Like the cheesiest gesture since that nineteen-page spread of Hughes’ kid.” She fixed her friend with a hard stare. “You _have_ thought about this? Like I’m not trying to jump the gun or anything here but if you guys get married or have a kid-”

“ _Yes_ , I have,” she answered irritably. “We’ve talked about how we move forward. I know the press is never going to go away but…it would be nice to give them something _positive_ to spin. This entire week has just been about how I broke Olivier’s heart by stealing Roy away and-” she bit her lip and smiled weakly at her friend. “I need to show that I’m serious about this too.”

“This is the best way?”

“Hughes reckons it is. The press seems to like him, I’ve got no reason to suspect he’d prank his best friend quite so publicly.”

“Alrighty,” Rebecca said with an air of finality, gesturing to gate 28. “Are you ready to face the music?”

Riza nodded. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

> __
> 
> _It’s official! And in the sweetest way imaginable._
> 
> _The Drakes may have had their best win against the Drachman Bears yet (74-6), but nobody is going to be talking about that (not even about the Drachman doping scandal), not after **Roy Mustang’s** reaction to seeing his now-confirmed girlfriend **Riza Hawkeye** wearing his rugby number to the game last night. _
> 
> _It wasn’t until after the final whistle had blown that Roy had noticed her, sitting in the front row alongside friends, insiders say. As they were congratulating their opponents, running back **Maes Hughes** had quickly caught up to his friend on the field, motioning to where the Führer’s granddaughter was watching. Obviously someone had been paying attention to more than just the game!_
> 
> _Roy was meant to be making his way over to be interviewed post-game – as Captain, it’s his job to represent the team immediately in the aftermath. Not last night though!_
> 
> _Instead, he made his way over to where Riza was sitting and jumped the billboard boundaries with ease, motioning at the nearest security guard to open the gate to where the seating was. Riza was quickly pushed out of her seat by an alleged friend and all but fell into her beau’s arms onto the pitch proper, smiling widely from ear to ear before Roy kissed her soundly on the mouth._
> 
> _If the cheers from the stadium crowd were anything to go by, Central City appears to back this couple too!_
> 
> _A love story like this comes once in a lifetime – let’s hope it goes the distance!_
> 
> _[Watch the video 1:32m]_

**Author's Note:**

> the spoof account is a reference to holy musical b@man – “someone already took the twitter name ‘roymustang’ and all they do is tweet about how dumb i am.” 
> 
> three guesses to who owns that account (and no, it’s not hughes)


End file.
